[BL]Reborn as the Empire's Most Desired Omega
Chapter 189: On our side

Chapter 189: Chapter 189: On our side

Trevor’s private dining room was a world away from the tension they’d just left, a narrow, quiet space at the far end of the east wing, with shelves of old ledgers along the walls and a single lamp throwing a golden pool over the table. No flowers, no candelabras, no preening relatives, just plates already laid out by the staff, steam rising from simple dishes that smelled of rosemary and garlic.

Lucas dropped into his chair like he’d been shot and immediately reached for the bread. "I think I survived a firing squad."

Trevor shed his jacket and draped it over the back of the chair, rolling up his sleeves as he sat. His voice was quieter here, stripped of performance and venom. "You did better than survive."

"Is that your way of saying I didn’t stab anyone?" Lucas tore the bread in half, tore it again, and stuffed a piece in his mouth before Trevor could answer.

Trevor smirked faintly. "Not stabbing anyone was... appreciated." He spooned stew onto Lucas’s plate, ignoring the protest in his own head about appearances. "Eat. You’ve been running on sugar and terror all day."

Lucas let out a long sigh, the kind that shed layers of armor in its wake. "I can still feel Cressida’s hand on my shoulder every time I blink. Posture corrections are trauma, Trevor."

Trevor laughed quietly, shaking his head as he picked up his own fork. "You’ll thank her when you terrify an entire ballroom just by standing straight."

They ate in silence for a few minutes, comfortable silence, punctuated only by the clink of cutlery and the occasional soft curse from Lucas when the bread was too hot.

Then the door opened, and Windstone stepped in, not with his usual silent glide but with a heaviness in his shoulders that Trevor noticed instantly. He closed the door behind him, hands folded neatly, but his eyes, pale green and sharper than his age suggested, lingered on Trevor a moment too long.

"Your Grace," Windstone said, his tone formal, but there was something underneath it. "A brief report, if you’ll allow."

Trevor gestured with his fork. "Go on."

Windstone took a measured step closer, but not too close. He never intruded when Trevor was eating, old habits. "Lucia departed within five minutes of your exit. Alaric followed. Milo lingered, as always, long enough to finish his wine before leaving as well." He hesitated, and his voice softened by a degree. "No further incidents."

Lucas arched a brow. "That sounds like a miracle."

Windstone’s lips quirked, the kind of subtle smile that meant he’d seen far worse and found it all boring. His gaze stayed on Trevor as he leaned one shoulder against the doorframe, casual, almost conspiratorial.

"And if I can speak plainly..." he didn’t say Lucia’s name; he didn’t have to "...she’s still as dramatic as ever. You know how she is. Don’t be surprised if she pulls something stupid just to remind us she exists."

Lucas blinked, spoon still hovering. "Stupid? How stupid are we talking?"

Windstone gave a low chuckle, the kind that felt like shared gossip rather than a report. "On a scale of one to ’crash the Governor’s gala because someone sat in her seat’?" He tipped his hand back and forth. "Somewhere around ’fireworks at a funeral.’"

Lucas tried to smother a laugh. "You’re kidding."

"I wish I were," Windstone said easily. "Last time she felt ignored, she sent a six‑page letter to the Prime Minister and signed it with a flourish like it was a royal decree." He looked to Trevor, a brow raised. "Remember that?"

Trevor shook his head, a smile tugging despite himself. "I burned the letter."

"Exactly." Windstone crossed his arms, his voice warm now, like a man who’d spent half his life quietly cleaning up messes no one else wanted to touch. "Point is, you two keep your heads down and enjoy your evening. If she tries anything... you know I’ve got it."

Lucas tilted his head. "You really don’t sound like a butler."

"Good," Windstone said, grinning briefly before pushing off the doorframe. "Butler’s just the title they gave me. Family’s what I signed up for." NovelFire

He started for the door, pausing just long enough to add over his shoulder, "If dessert isn’t chocolate, I’ll send it back. Don’t wait up."

The door clicked shut behind him, leaving Lucas staring after him with a faint smile.

"He’s like..."

"...the only sane uncle in a family of lunatics," Trevor finished, reaching across the table to top off Lucas’s glass.

Lucas laughed softly, easing back in his chair. "Yeah. Exactly that."

"Well, he really enjoys plotting with Serathine and Cressida." Said Trevor while reaching for a piece of the garlic bread Lucas was hiding.

Lucas’s eyes widened in mock offense as Trevor’s hand snuck onto his plate.

"Hey," he protested, clutching the remaining bread closer like it was a crown jewel. "That’s mine."

Trevor effortlessly plucked the piece from his grasp anyway, tearing off a corner with the smug precision of a man who knew exactly how far he could push. "You were hoarding it," he said, utterly unapologetic, popping the bread into his mouth. "And for the record, Windstone isn’t just plotting with them, he’s enjoying every second of it."

Lucas narrowed his eyes, pointing his fork. "You’re telling me the man who brings me tea like clockwork is the same one whispering strategy to those two?"

Trevor leaned back in his chair, savoring the stolen bread and the look on Lucas’s face. "Oh, absolutely. He’s probably already discussed three ways to ruin anyone who sneezes wrong during the ceremony. And he won’t even break a sweat doing it."

Lucas shook his head, laughing despite himself. "You all terrify me. I don’t know who’s worse, your matriarch duo or your stealth‑assassin uncle."

Trevor’s smile was slow and a little crooked. "Windstone’s worse. Cressida and Serathine will scorch the earth in daylight. Windstone? He does it so quietly you’ll thank him for the fire."

Lucas bit back another laugh, leaning back with a sigh. "And here I thought I’d just married into wealth and dramatic tablescapes."

Trevor stole another piece of bread before Lucas could stop him, eyes gleaming with amusement. "You married into survival instincts and conspiracies, love. But don’t worry...." he reached over, brushing his thumb against Lucas’s wrist in a rare, easy moment of softnes... "they’re all on our side."